


good day sunshine.

by orphan_account



Series: tumblr requests. [90]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Celebrity Crush, Crush at First Sight, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “hi!! could i request either a john or paul x male reader who’s seen as the sweetheart? maybe they’re a beatle or just an individual songwriter? and they’re jus…… very soft……. please? thank u for ur time!!! have a nice day!“





	good day sunshine.

1965,

When your manager informed you of a radio interview, you were to be doing the following day for your upcoming debut album one summer day; he hadn’t been so kind as to tell you that you would be sharing airtime with two members of _The Beatles_. And, well, you could just about die. Of course, Hank (name of said manager) weren’t quite aware of your admiration for the band. They hadn’t been something you had talked much about. You were told you could be rather… quiet and shy… reserved. Which, you supposed, could be true. In a way. You just needed to be comfortable and feel safe around the person you were with and then you could be hard to shut up! Really! And… well, Hank could be _intimidating_. Terribly so. But he was a nice guy and damn good at his job. He got you an opportunity to meet The Beatles, didn’t he?

It was only when you arrived at the studio that you found out which Beatles it were and, God, your heart jumped to your throat as you saw them through a set of wide glass doors. It was Paul and John! They wore nice, patterned suits, and matching sunglasses. They looked to be deep in conversation and didn’t take notice to you… staring at them… behind doors. You shook your head, took a deep breath and opened the door with trembling hands. A young woman, behind a desk filled with dials and buttons and… all kinds of things, looked to you as you entered and greeted you with an ecstatic hello and came to shake your hand faster than you could blink. You stammered through your greeting back and she giggled slightly as she pointed to your seat near the other men. “Mister Waller will be out in just a second,” she said with a polite smile and disappeared behind her desk. Your grip tightened and released on the strap of your guitar as you stumbled to your seat, carefully placing your prized possession next to you and felt the cool wooden material for comfort.

You adjusted slightly in your seat, careful in not hitting the large and round microphone in front of you when doing so. You felt warm… nervous. Your heart beating furiously. You had never been particularly comfortable with interviews and now, two very impressive people sat only a reach away from you. You carefully glanced to them, wanting to take a look, and found two sets of eyes meeting yours. Your eyes widened, and you readied yourself for an anxious, stammering, greeting when the doors flew open and a tall man with handsome features stepped inside. You recognised him as _Charles Lee Waller_, the host of the radio show you were now privileged to be on together with _John Lennon and Paul McCartney_. He gave you all a strong handshake and sat down, lighter already in hand, and lit up a smoke. You shook your head politely as he offered you one and watched in silence as the recording signal went on.

He started talking; introducing you and half of The Beatles to the audience after having laid out the schedule of the show. John and Paul were to be interviewed first, then a break, then you. And, lastly, you had a performance of one of the songs from your album (the reason why you had brought your guitar). You felt jittery, restless with unnerved excitement at the prospect of not only performing your song for the first time to an audience, but for that audience to be John and Paul!

“So, boys,” Charles started in his smooth made for radio voice and the Beatles looked to him in an equally swift turn of their heads, “let’s begin with you.” The host gave a smile, “earlier this month you released your seventh album, _Revolver_, to rave reviews,” they nodded and hummed in confirmation, “now, I’ve heard it myself and do quite agree with that census.” He looked to you with clear eyes, “do you share that opinion?”

You nodded eagerly, “v-very much so. It’s… b-briliant!” You smiled widely and nervously glanced to the pair, silently cursing your persistent stammer. “That’s high praise,” John said wryly and your heart twisted at the sarcastic voice but… something in his eyes, behind the tinted glasses, seemed to disagree with the attitude he had taken on. “Well,” Charles laughed, “let’s see if they will share that opinion of your own release.” You looked to him with sudden focused attention. But it was for nought as he announced the first commercial break and exited the room the moment the circle of red light went off. You sat, blinking for a few seconds, before you heard a small cough and felt a light presence on the back of your hand. You turned and saw that it had been Paul, reaching out to you to get your attention. “You all right?” He asked, and you fought hard not to fall into his stare. You nodded and choked out, “_yeah_.” You coughed slightly and took a sip of a glass of water, that had been placed in front of you, with shaking hands. 

“You’re new to this, aren’t ye?” You heard John question and looked past Paul, to him. You nodded again, folding your hands in your lap, feeling them tremble and shake. “I haven’t… done a lot of interviews… yet,” you inched slightly further towards the table as you felt yourself slip back in the chair. You lips felt dry, and you gave them a slight lick, not noticing the eyes on it. “Oh,” Paul smiled sweetly and looked over his shoulder to John, “we’ve been there. You’ll get used to it, y’know. And then it’ll just be a _breeze_,” he patted your shoulder, and you felt a heat travel to your cheeks. You thanked him in a meek voice, “-that’s very kind of you to say,” and watched as John’s eyes drifted from Paul’s neck to you. And it stayed there. For how long, you didn’t know, but you felt trapped in his stare- but it didn’t feel… bad. Suddenly, your name was called and you willed your eyes away from John and Paul, losing the staring battle you had come to have, and looked to the chiseled jawline of the radio host, still not sure of how to make eye contact. He had, at some point, entered the room again and you now realise the beaming red light was back on. Your gentle smile stayed in its place and you awaited the next moment. 

“Later this month we’ll finally see the release of your debut album _Meadow_, something that is looked forward to with much anticipation. Your recent single for it, _Autumn Tree_, was very well received and nearly knocked down the boys here,” Charles said in a rehearsed fashion and pointed with an open palm to John and Paul, “from their top spot.” They laughed and you couldn’t resist the urge to smile wider. John leaned in to the microphone with a smirk and looked at you behind his dark shades, something that made you feel _so funny_ inside, “no hard feelings, I hope.” You snickered with a shake of your head, “none at all.” Laughter was shared around the room and the conversation seemed to flow more… naturally from there on. John and Paul joined in more often when you were asked or talked and you did the same when it was their turn. A good feeling was shared all around and you no longer felt a crushing sense of panic for when your time to perform finally arrived.

“Now,” Charles said your name and focused the attention back to him, “tell us what you’re about to play.” He smiled, professionally with no real life behind it, and postured towards your guitar. “Oh! Yeah,” you laughed softly and positioned the guitar over your lap. “It’s the first single I released for the album… last month, yeah,” another laugh gave away as a flow of content travelled through your chest. “It’s, uh, called _Take Care_… and, uh, yes,” you laughed and looked to the Beatles, both concentrated on you, and started to play the opening chords. You felt it had gone well as you finished the song and your confidence only slightly managed to waver before Paul started clapping, with John (who had received a slight shove to his stomach by the bassist’s elbow) who started to join in with Charles. “Very good… very good,” Charles hummed, looking through some notes in front of him. “Well, that’s about all we have time for today! We, all of us in the studio, look forward to what else you boys have in plans and, as always, be pleasing. Be thriving. And most of all; be happy.”

And, that was it. The end of the show. You sat silently in your chair as people flourished around you, your arms tight around your guitar as you waited for the right moment to move out and not be terribly in the way of someone’s path. And when that moment arrived, you hurried out of your seat and looked around for two familiar faces. You sighed in dismay; they were already gone. Of course, they must be very busy people! You packed together the little stuff you had brought, went out of the cramped room and turned to leave in the hallway when you bumped into a hard chest with soft fabrics dressed upon it. Blinking in shock, you looked up with the feel of hands on your waist, to see no-one else but John. He was smirking down at you and you felt your heartbeat spike up the way it had done earlier that day, the way it had done when he had smirked earlier. “I, uh… I-” he interrupted you. “You’re quite the cute lad, aren’t ye,” his smirk only seemed to grow wider as he watched your face turn a dark red colour. “And tiny too,” he patted you on the head and ruffled your hair. You stammered, and the smirk turned into a softer, more gentle, smile as realisation of your rather frazzled state dawned on him. He drew back but kept a hand on your waist. You noticed, finally, that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked around; “I, uh, liked what I heard back in the studio, y’know, and was wondering… _hoping_ that you’d, maybe, like some dinner with me?” His former confidence seemed to wash away with an invisible tide and he looked around yet again. You felt bold, strikingly so, and gently took the hand that nudged slightly against yours into your palm. He looked to you with slightly widened eyes and drew a sigh of relief when you nodded with a delicate ‘_yes_.’ 


End file.
